


Storm Cloud

by youcouldmakealife



Series: Impaired Judgment (and other excuses) [38]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 20:34:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15202919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcouldmakealife/pseuds/youcouldmakealife
Summary: The only other time they’ve gone this long without talking, it was one-sided, and Bryce sent plenty of texts in the interim.Maybe Jared’s phone is broken.Maybe Jared’s relationship is broken.





	Storm Cloud

Jared doesn’t text or call Bryce that night, the next day, needs to cool off, but the difference, one he’s trying not to notice, is that Bryce isn’t texting or calling him either. His phone’s dead, a limp object, and he only realises how attuned to it he’s been when he leaps at when it buzzes, then almost throws it across the room when he sees it’s just a text from Chaz.

It’s not that Jared expected Bryce to like, immediately grovel, not after how big an asshole he was, but he — maybe he did. A little. At the very least a half-assed ‘sorry’. But there’s nothing.

He swears he starts hearing his phone buzz when nothing’s there. Keeps looking up Bryce, afraid he’ll see ‘punched a rando AGAIN’ or ‘dead in a ditch’, which is stupid, he knows it’s stupid, but he can’t stop doing it. The only other time they’ve gone this long without talking, it was one-sided, and Bryce sent plenty of texts in the interim.

Maybe Jared’s phone is broken.

Maybe Jared’s relationship is broken.

Sunday, Jared tags along with his mom to his grandma’s, ignoring her looks, because he needs some kind of distraction, needs not to be at home, checking his phone constantly, waiting for a text that doesn’t seem to be coming. He leaves his phone at home, for a double guarantee he won’t be a sad sack.

It seems like a good idea at first, his grandma feeding him coffee and cookies she made that morning (no one enters grandma’s house without being fed), Jared dunking them in his coffee and listening to all the stuff that passes for gossip — her neighbour has kindly been shoveling her walk, do you think he’d prefer a batch of cookies or a bottle of wine as a thank you? His aunt Alice is fed up with his cousin Fiona, who’s been so distant lately (she’s two grades behind him and she’s fallen in with the potheads, but Jared’s not a snitch). How is that nice boyfriend of Jared’s doing?

“Excuse me?” Jared asks, and loses the last part of his cookie in his coffee.

“Your mom said you have a boyfriend?” his grandma says.

“You told her?” Jared snaps.

“Not who he is,” his mom says, and Jared _swears_ he can feel his grandma’s eyes sharpening at that. “Just that you’re dating someone.”

“Dating someone _nice_?” Jared asks.

“Well,” his mom says. “We’re not all your father. He seems nice, despite—”

Despite, yeah. Usually Jared would be leaping to Bryce’s defence in response to that, but right now, ‘despite’ seems like a good word. He’s nice, you know, despite the fact that he punched someone in the face — off the ice: Jared hasn’t punched anyone on or off, but it’s not quite the same thing — and drove drunk and fucking grabbed a beer to force an end to a fight and basically kick Jared out of his fucking place. Despite that, he’s a veritable gem.

“Boyfriend troubles?” his grandma asks, so Jared’s face must be doing something.

Jared shrugs. “I guess,” he says, and when his mom looks at him, that look like she’s ready to drill into his brain, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Talking about it can help,” his mom says.

“Not if you’re me,” Jared mutters. Talking just seems to fucking exacerbate things.

“At least the Flames are doing well right now,” his grandma says brightly, her standard subject change when things are shit (well, when the _Flames_ aren’t shit, which was rare until lately), and it is — unhelpful.

“Yeah,” his mom says. “I’ve been impressed by Bryce Marcus this season.”

While his grandma goes into a mini-spiel about how great Bryce is, Jared kicks his mom under the table, and just scowls back when she narrows her eyes at him. ‘Don’t’, he mouths, and she rolls her eyes, but thankfully gets his grandma off the subject of Bryce fucking Marcus by asking how her hip’s feeling, while Jared takes a mouthful of coffee and gets soggy cookie instead.

Typical. Fucking typical.

*

His mom drags him grocery shopping after they leave his grandma’s, which he sort of appreciates, because it keeps him occupied and away from his phone, and simultaneously resents, because it keeps him occupied and away from his phone. Does that make sense? No, but here he is, grateful and resentful all at once as he trails her in the cereal aisle.

When he gets home he makes it halfway up the stairs to his room before his mom calls him back down to help put away the groceries, and he’s more resentment than gratitude at that point. As soon as the last thing’s put away and the plastic bags are in the bag of…bags…under the stove, Jared’s heading right back up to his room, picking up his phone where it’s lying on his bedside table.

No need to have hurried, apparently. Text from Raf. Text from his dad asking if Jared needs anything at Sport Chek because his job today’s nearby one. Nothing from Bryce.

Jared throws his phone — onto the bed, he’s not stupid enough to break it, especially since there’s like a year left on the plan before he can get another one.

If he sticks around he’s going to go absolutely crazy — he’s tried and failed to do homework, barely even starts before he’s glancing at his phone again, unable to focus long enough to actually do anything.

He changes into sweats, his rattiest hoodie.

“Going for a run,” he tells his mom, and heads out the door to her, “Jared, it’s freezing out there—”

It kind of is, but it isn’t long until he warms up enough that the hoodie feels like too much, and thankfully for once the sidewalks are mostly free of snow. He’s got to watch his feet for any black ice, though, which is just enough distraction to keep him from focusing solely on Bryce — it’s more 95%. This was a bad idea. Why the fuck did he think running would _distract_ him? Running’s when the bad thoughts decide to loudly make their presence known, and he didn’t need the help this time.

Jared turns back before long, because he’s running _pissed_ , and that’s never a good thing.

Back home, he half-heartedly tries to do homework again, but that’s a bust. Jared doesn’t really have anyone to vent to: well, there’s Raf, but like, Jared doesn’t want to bug poor Raf every time shit gets fucked up. He’s not Jared’s fucking therapist or whatever. 

He can’t distract himself unless there are other people around, so he pulls his phone out. No messages, of course.

 _You doing anything today?_ Jared texts Chaz.

 _just chillin if u wanna come over_ , Chaz texts back.

 _Sure, give me the address?_ Jared asks.

Chaz’s billet place is pretty close, so Jared decides to walk it. Literally cool off or whatever.

“I’m going over to Chaz’s,” Jared says, peeking into the living room on his way out. “Dunno if I’ll have dinner there or not, I’ll let you know.”

“Oh good,” his mom says. “The storm cloud’s leaving the building.”

“Thanks,” Jared says. “Appreciate it, mom.”

“You know,” she says. “If you want to talk about it—”

“Don’t, thanks, bye!” Jared says, and books it before she can give him that _look_. He’s not good at not folding in the face of the look.

Chaz’s billet house looks a hell of a lot like Jared’s, down to the downstairs set up he sees for all of ten seconds before Chaz leads him up to his room, ruffling the hair of a kid that looks about ten years old as they walk down the hall. There are a lot of nice things about getting to live with his family instead of being stuck billeting with strangers in some other city, and not having to deal with kids he’s not even related to? Definitely a pro. Even if Erin’s a total brat, at least she’s, you know, his sister.

Chaz has a pretty nice set-up, almost more very tiny apartment than room: single bed in the corner to make room for a mini-fridge, small couch and much bigger TV.

“‘Chel?” Chaz asks, and Jared shrugs and agrees. He wasn’t able to focus on video games at home, but it’s easier with a human opponent who’ll chirp you if you get distracted. Gets the competitive blood flowing.

Well, in theory, anyway. In practice Jared loses heroically, and that’d usually hurt his ego, but Chaz isn’t even bothering to chirp him. And not like how Grace didn’t chirp him while kicking his ass and made it _worse_. It’s all just halfhearted.

“Okay, dude, what’s up?” Chaz says, after he beats Jared 5-0. “You’re all, like —”

“Like?” Jared asks.

“No bad vibes allowed in my house,” Chaz says. “And your vibe sucks.”

“Thanks,” Jared says.

“Seriously, what’s up?” Chaz asks.

“Just — fight with my boyfriend, it’s whatever,” Jared says.

“Is it the travel?” Chaz asks. “That’s like, every single fight Ashley and I have.”

Ashley. _That’s_ his girlfriend’s name.

“I mean, the travel sucks,” worse, honestly, because presumably Chaz’s girlfriend is usually in Calgary when he comes home, “But no, like. Drinking shit.”

“Drinking shit?” Chaz asks.

“He’s like,” Jared says. “I’m kind of worried about his drinking.”

“He do it all the time or something?” Chaz asks.

“No, just—” Jared says. “It’s more how much, I guess.”

“I mean, getting drunk sometimes is kind of normal at your age,” Chaz says.

“Dude, you’re only a year older than me, don’t do that ‘your age’ shit,” Jared says. “Plus, he’s twenty-one.”

“Older man,” Chaz crows. “Nice. Okay, but then it’s like, extra normal, and also legal.”

“Yeah, but he’s like — he does stupid shit when he’s drunk,” Jared says, because stringing together ‘punched someone and got in a wreck’, while probably unfortunately not as rare as it should be, would make anyone in Calgary think of Bryce. 

“Everyone does stupid shit,” Chaz says.

“I mean like driving,” Jared says. 

“Okay, that’s not cool, fair,” Chaz says. “Are you going to break up with him, or—” 

“No, I just—” Jared says. “I dunno. I’m scared we’ll go on the road and I’ll come back to like ‘hey, by the way, your boyfriend broke his neck’, you know? Or ‘he’s fine, but the people in the car he hit aren’t, so he’s definitely going to jail’.”

“Yeah,” Chaz says. “Fuck, dude, that’s heavy.”

“Sorry,” Jared says. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” Chaz says. “I just, I dunno, man — shit’s tough. Sorry I’m not, like, helpful or whatever.”

“Nah, it’s cool,” Jared says. “Guess I just needed to vent.”

“I hear you,” Chaz says. “You need me, I’m here.”

“Thanks,” Jared says.

“You tell him this shit?” Chaz asks.

“I mean, basically,” Jared says. “He got super defensive about it, so. We’re kind of not talking right now.”

“Did you tell him like, what you told me?” Chaz asks. “Or did you do it all ‘you’?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jared asks.

“I dunno if anyone’s ever told you this before,” Chaz says. “But you’re kind of, like, snide sometimes.”

“Hey,” Jared says. “I am not.”

“Dude,” Chaz says. “Seriously. Were you snide?”

“I was…maybe a little snide,” Jared says.

“Maybe try without the snide?” Chaz asks.

“It just comes naturally to me,” Jared says weakly.

“Oh, I can tell,” Chaz says.

“Hey,” Jared says. “That was kind of snide, Chaz.”

“Must be like, from proximity,” Chaz says.

Jared punches his arm, and Chaz punches back, which ends up like, basically turning into a wrestling match. “Okay, okay,” Chaz says, when Jared gets his arm twisted behind his back, and it’s nice to know he can still beat someone. 

“Wanna order a pizza or something?” Chaz asks, after Jared frees him, and they play another few games of NHL 16 while they wait for it, taking turns playing the Flames, Jared trying and failing not to still find it weird that he’s controlling a little video game version of Bryce, that all the other little video game Flames are dudes Bryce personally knows. Shit’s going to be extra weird if he makes the NHL, gets to control a tiny little Jared. He hopes his rating won’t kill his ego.

He heads home after the pizza, Chaz giving him a bro hug and then this weirdly earnest ‘you got this, dude’. Jared’s pretty sure he doesn’t, but it feels good to hear someone say it.

He gets home while his family’s eating dinner. His mom doesn’t give him shit about spending money on pizza when he could have eaten at home, which is weird, but maybe her relief to have the quote unquote storm cloud leave the house beats being thrifty. She still makes him sit with them until they’re done, though, and Jared caves and grabs a bowl to shovel some salad into after a minute, because a couple vegetables on the pizza does not a full serving make.

Jared heads up to his room, checks his phone, which has become basically a compulsion, considering he’d freaking feel it vibrate. No texts, of course. Jared would be impressed Bryce was holding out so long if he didn’t feel absolutely sick about it.

 _Can we talk?_ Jared writes, adds _Without a beer this time_ , then deletes it. Not that Bryce doesn’t deserve it, but it’s probably not the way to get him to agree, and it may be, in the words of one Chaz Rossi, ‘snide’.

He hesitates, like if he waits just a second Bryce will crack first, then finally sends it, finds himself checking his phone at least a dozen times in the next five minutes, though it remains stubbornly mute.


End file.
